


Dancing In The Dark

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-18
Updated: 1999-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser and Ray Vecchio are dancing in the dark with blindfolds and handcuffs.  WARNING: Light bondage & domination.  ORIGINALLY archived July 7, 1996.





	Dancing In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Dancing In The Dark  
I have been on this list for about a month and have  
completely enjoyed the postings. This is my first attempt at fan fiction  
of any kind; I hope I don't oops in some major way.

Assume the usual disclaimers: Ben and Ray belong to Alliance legally, but most truely to those of us who love them. 

**rating: Kinky m/m PWP?**

Paloma Manchada 

paloma46@hotmail.com 

# Dancing in the Dark

Firm hands guided him through the dark. Of course, he wasn't sure if it was dark; the blindfold he wore effectively blocked any light. His hands were secured before his body by handcuffs attached to a sturdy leather belt which buckled behind his back. He felt disoriented and a bit light-headed. 

He was beginning to loose track of time. How long had this been going on? 

The evening had started with dinner at one of those elegant restaurants with private booths and pricey entrees. The food was wonderful, the wine expensive, the company scintillating. 

He stumbled on a step up, jarring himself back to the moment. The hands took a firmer grip on his arm, shoving him against the wall; a gruff voice demanded that he pay attention to his feet. 

The injustice of the accusation stung. "I can't see!" he blurted. 

"Shut up!" A glancing slap on the back of his head bounced his head against the wall. It didn't even hurt that much. It was the demeaning kind of casual slap meted out to children sometimes - not meant to injure, just to emphasize that they'd miessed up and backed by the implicit threat of worse to come if the hitter felt it necessary. 

His heart raced, he heard his own rapid, shallow breathing. This was becoming scarier by the moment. Scary and yet, somehow incredibly arousing. 

The hands turned him away from the wall and headed him up the stairs he'd strumbled over. They were back in the restaurant booth, laughing over dessert. Kissing. Fingers in mouths sucking, teeth nibbling on necks, hands inside clothing. The memory stirred something deep in both mind and body. He never heard the little moan that escaped him. His captor smiled in satisfaction. 

He was pulled to an abrupt halt. A door opened in front of him. The hands pushed him into a room. He heard the door close and latch. The hand was back holding him firmly above the elbow. It guided him further into the unseen space. A hand tapped him on the cheek. "Stand still." He was suddenly alone, listening to footsteps retreating quickly. 

What was happening? Panic crept closer. He felt unsteady on his feet, almost as if the floor was moving beneath him. He tried to formulate a plan to escape, but seemed unable to focus on anything long enough to . . . what if he didn't return . . . what if he'd been abandoned here, alone in the dark? 

He did not hear his captor return to his side. The hands working the buttons of his shirt were a complete surprise. Startled, he tried to pull back. 

"I told you to stand still!" His feet were swept from under him; he fell heavily to his knees on a padded surface, gasping with shock. Strong hands were on either side of his face. Insistent lips covered his own, imperious tongue demanding entrance. His jaw relaxed, mouth opening to admit the other, lost in the sensation. His cuffed hands clutched at his captor's shirt, desperate to touch the silky flesh hidden beneath the material. 

Suddenly the other pulled away from him. He swayed on his knees, bowed over his hands, bereft. His captor walked around him considering. He stopped behind the kneeling man. He ran his fingers through the thick black hair, noting with satisfaction the shudder that ran through his captive's body at the touch. He closed his fist in the hair and pulled upward. "Where's that legendary Canadian posture?" 

The kneeling man straightened his spine and held his head erect even after his hair was released. His captor circled him again, struck by the sight of the handsome, vulnerable man kneeling before him. His hair was ruffled from the previous touch. The captor longed to reach out and smooth it back from his forehead. His face was obscured by the blindfold, the beautiful blue eyes hidden. Curiously, that only emphasized the sensuality of his mouth, the quick flick of tongue tip as he nervously licked his dry lips. His hands hung relaxed from the belt, the handcuffs clicking against each other as he shifted his weight on his knees. Tension was evident in the lines of his body revealed in the shadows of the shirt hanging loose, in his shallow breathing. He had never seemed so beautiful. 

All at once Ray could bear it no longer. He quickly unbuckled the belt, then moved to kneel on the bedroll and tenderly embrace his lover. He unlocked the handcuffs, kissing the marks they had left on Ben's wrists, laving the tiny scrapes with his tongue. Vecchio gently removed the blindfold, smoothing the ruffled hair as he had been longing to do. 

He kissed the sensitive lips he'd been studying for so long, eager to see him smile that smile again. 

"Game's over, Benny." 

Fraser blinked a little; he found this sudden sight to be almost as unsettling as the darkness had been only moments before. He closed his eyes to savor for another moment the information from his other senses which had supported him through the game; the warmth of Ray's hands on his body, the strength of his touch, the scent of the cologne he wore, the sweet taste of his mouth. 

Fraser opened his eyes to see the worry in Ray's expression. He smiled his open, playful smile and was rewarded by Ray's relief. The mountie bore him backward onto the bedroll. 

"Oh, I don't think so, Ray." 

finis 

* * *


End file.
